Niagara man's film chronicles great-grandfather's captivity

Ever since 59-year-old Robert Munoz was a young boy, stories about his great-grandfather, who died a prisoner in a Russian detention camp, captivated the very soul of his subconsciousness.

He heard the stories, often repeated, of how Jakob Seel was abducted by secret police in the middle of the night for daring not to conform to state-held beliefs. How he was taken to a Russian detention camp where he formed a choir among prisoners despite threats of death by camp guards.

And how he died in prison, without ever seeing his family again.

It was only by happenstance mixed with the goodwill of a fellow prisoner who somehow was either released or escaped and subsequently found Jakob's wife, that his story is even known.

The very fabric of Munoz's family was stitched together by oral tradition. So, after his great-grandmother died in 1965, the family narrative was continued by his grandmother and mother.

Then last year, Munoz, an independent filmmaker, pulled his great-grandfather from his subconscious mind and gave him life on paper. In two days, he wrote a rough draft of the script that would become his second, full-length feature film, Under Jakob's Ladder.

"I had lived this," he says. "It came from inside. It was all there."

Munoz was born in Germany, but grew up in St. Catharines after his family immigrated here in 1960 when he was 10 years old. He attended Lincoln Centennial Public School, then Lakeport Secondary.

The film was shot in New York last year, his home up until six months ago. He has returned to St. Catharines to care for his mother, Martha.

Under Jakob's Ladder is inspired by the life of Munoz's great-grandfather. Set in 1930s Soviet Union, it tells the story of a 60-year-old teacher, dismissed by the Soviet regime, who struggles with a growing sense of worthlessness. It is only after he is thrown into a Soviet prison that he finds new purpose and the courage to share hope with the hopeless.

In November, Munoz travelled to Virginia to accept an award from the Redemptive Film Festival.

Under Jakob's Ladder was produced on an ultra-low budget - meaning less than $200,000 - and Munoz is hoping for a theatrical release.

In many ways, the film is a family affair. Munoz's sons are involved - Mann is its director, Martin, the director of lighting, and Miquel its soundman. He also wrote one of the scores. Daughter Maria is the script supervisor and daughter Marla Palmer, costumes.

There will be a screening in Manhattan in the new year.

Although they never met, Munoz shared an affinity for his great-grandfather.

Just like Jakob, Munoz considers himself an intellect. In high school, he read Newsweek for fun and was more interested in engaging in discussions about Henry Kissinger, U.S. secretary of state under Nixon and Ford, than the usual peer talk about "pistons and camshafts."

Jakob was a teacher in a small, German-speaking village in Russia. He fought in the Russian army during the First World War, prized for his ability to speak both German and Russian. Growing up, his father beat him for defying his orders not to read. His dad wanted him to be a farmer like himself, not a thinker.

He lived in a time of repression, says Munoz. People were not allowed to have political opinions that differed from the state, nor were they allowed to profess ideas of spirituality.

Trouble began the day he spoke at a funeral. Someone snitched on him, and in the middle of the night, the Soviet secret police arrived at his home.

"They pounded on his door, woke him up and dragged him out of the house, never to be heard from again," says Munoz.

He was taken to a place where, "Everybody knew they were probably going to die."

He was put in a detention camp where he remained 11/2 years until he died in his sleep. During that time, he started a choir among prisoners despite threats of death by prison guards.

Munoz suspects the guards actually enjoyed the music and didn't carry through on those threats.

"He sang every day," says Munoz.

"They'd (the guards) knock on the door, pounding and screaming.

"But they just persisted.

"Eventually, the threats stopped and he sang until the day he died."

And in an ironic sort of way, those months without freedom were the most freeing, the most fulfilling of his life, he says.

Of course, the filmmaker in him saw a compelling narrative in those last months of his life: "The worst things that happen to you can be the best things," he says.

And while Munoz's film takes some creative liberties with the true story, it is notions of forgiveness and reconciliation that he explores in Under Jakob's Ladder.

"I took a quiet pride," says Munoz.

"I fancied myself carrying on this legacy."

He plans to produce his next film in Niagara, likely about the life of Jim Chevalier, former bandmate of Canadian Rocker Kim Mitchell.

People can find out about auditioning for Robert Munoz's next projects by emailing him at niagara@cubecity.org. Learn more about his latest film at www.underjakobsladder.com.